


love me tonight

by yeswayappianway



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 03:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16610678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” wheedles Claude, stopping in front of the brightly colored stand advertising “Test Your Strength” in bold red letters. Marc rolls his eyes, but he lets Claude drag him over to the line. There aren’t too many people waiting—it’s been disgustingly hot and humid all day, and most people that are at the carnival are either on rides or staying in the shade—and Claude looks excited, almost giddy. Not that Marc doesn’t enjoy a good carnival day, but Claude’s been beaming all day, even before they got there.





	love me tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remiges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remiges/gifts).



> super very un-beta-ed so if you spot any typos, feel free to let me know
> 
> this is based on a message from remi, and i decided to flesh it out a little. we're building this ship one fic (and hundreds of tumblr/discord messages) at a time.
> 
> title from 4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy) by Bruce Springsteen. the lyrics aren't really the mood i was going for, but the sound ABSOLUTELY is.
> 
> this is just. incredibly sweet. i might have a sugar crash after writing it, like it's that much.

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” wheedles Claude, stopping in front of the brightly colored stand advertising “Test Your Strength” in bold red letters. Marc rolls his eyes, but he lets Claude drag him over to the line. There aren’t too many people waiting—it’s been disgustingly hot and humid all day, and most people that are at the carnival are either on rides or staying in the shade—and Claude looks excited, almost giddy. Not that Marc doesn’t enjoy a good carnival day, but Claude’s been beaming all day, even before they got there.

“Step up, step up! Try your might with the hammer! Think you can beat the top rank? You could win a prize!” the man running the game booms. Marc stops himself from laughing when Claude puffs up a little as he gives the man two tickets. The woman in front of them brings the hammer down with a resounding clank. The little striker flies up the post, making it almost to the bell before falling back down. The man running the game offers her a choice of a few small prizes, but she declines, smiling and shaking her head as she steps away toward another woman who takes her hand. They walk away. Marc feels something warm and comfortable in his chest at the sight of the couple.

“Bet you I can do better than you can,” Claude says confidently, stepping up to the game.

“If you say so,” Marc laughs. Ignoring the carnival barker, who’s looking between the two of them with an appraising eye, Claude takes the hammer, raising it up at his shoulder. He holds it there for a second. _Don’t miss_ , Marc has an urge to heckle, but he ignores it in favor of mostly just staring at Claude’s arms. Just because Claude’s going to lose doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the sight. Claude brings the hammer down, and the striker shoots up, making it firmly past the middle of the post, but nowhere near the red at the top before gliding back down to earth.

Marc doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Sure, let’s see you do better,” Claude grumps. Marc steps up, grabs the hammer, and readjusts his grip. Once he’s sure he’s holding it firmly, he swings it up and then down onto the plate in one smooth motion. The striker rockets up the post, straight into the red, and lightly clangs against the very bottom edge of the bell. The man running the game looks impressed, but still says, “Oh, sorry, not quite enough for the prize. Want to try again?” he asks, eyeing the two of them. Marc shakes his head.

“No thanks, I’m good.”

They’ve barely made it five paces away before Claude hisses, “That game is rigged, no one can actually make that. It’s all just show anyway.” He goes on for a while as they walk through the carnival. Claude’s still complaining when Marc spots another game.

“No, I’ll show you what’s rigged,” Marc interrupts, pointing at the booth. There’s a teenager half-heartedly offering passers-by a softball to throw at what look like stacks of milk bottles. “These are actually rigged, they’ve got weights in the bottom.”

Claude gives the milk bottles an evaluating look. “But it’s not impossible, right? Just harder than it looks.”

Marc rolls his eyes. “Why, you think you’re going to be the one to beat it? The number of people who win anything at these isn’t even one in ten.”

“Why do you know so much about carnival games, anyway?” Claude asks, and Marc can’t tell if he’s genuinely curious, or still complaining. Marc just shrugs. He doesn’t really remember, honestly. Claude gives him a look like he doesn’t believe it, but he walks over to the stall.

Marc is busy trying to figure out where the smell that’s just drifted by is coming from, and he figures Claude can handle himself for a few minutes, so he heads off in search of delicious fried food. As it turns out, the smell was funnel cake, so Marc waits in line for a little while and starts eating it as he walks back to the stall Claude is still at. He’s blowing on his hands—the funnel cake is still very fresh and very hot—when Claude spots him and hurries over. Claude’s got a smug smile on his face, and is waving a stuffed animal of some sort at Marc. It’s horrendously neon green, and it might be some sort of large cat.

Claude looks like he means to say something about his prize, such as it is, but his eyes light up when he sees the funnel cake. He sticks the stuffed animal under his arm, and pulls off a piece without even asking. Marc rolls his eyes. Mouth full, Claude says, “What? Did you want something?”

Marc shoves his sugar-covered hand in Claude’s face, and Claude squawks and takes a step back. “Aw, gross,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small packet of wipes. He proceeds to use them to wipe off his hands and then, very precisely, his face.

Marc watches in amazement. “This is what you decide is gross?” he asks, incredulous. “I’ve seen you eat food you dropped on the floor!”

“I’d just cleaned that floor and you know it,” Claude says, jabbing a finger in Marc’s direction. He holds up the green cat in his now clean hands. “Look, I told you I could do it.”

“Congrats,” Marc says drily. He looks at the stuffed animal again. “But is that the best you could do? I bet I could win you something way better.”

\-----

Almost a full hour later, they’re both nearly out of cash, and Marc has traded the funnel cake for a pile of plush animals he can barely hold in his arms, only matched by Claude’s equally unwieldy collection. “But I got this giant bear,” Claude is arguing, and Marc shakes his head solemnly.

“It’s very sad that you can’t just admit I beat you,” he says, and hops away to avoid Claude swinging one of the prizes at him.

Claude just says, smugly, “Quality over quantity,” as if that’s the final word.

“Who says size is quality?” Marc replies, not even waiting for Claude’s groan before he laughs at his own joke. They’re aimlessly wandering down toward where the rides are set up, mostly for lack of anything better to do. One of them catches Marc’s eye, though, and he moves toward it before realizing that they’ll have to do something about the stuffed animals before they can go on any sort of ride. Looking around, Marc spots a group of six or seven children who all seem to be flocking around a harried but cheerful pair of adults.

Marc walks up to them, and addresses the woman. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he says, trying to smile as harmlessly as possible. She takes a moment to respond, and Marc guesses she probably assumes he was talking to someone else.

“Yes? Can I help you?” she answers. One of the kids, a girl, maybe 5 or 6 if he had to guess, gasps at the pile of animals in his hands.

Marc’s smile widens. “I ended up with all these stuffed animals, and I can’t really take them all home. I was wondering if maybe you would like some of them? I thought the kids might appreciate them,” and he doesn’t miss the way her eyes go wide too.

“Of course, oh my gosh, that’s so sweet of you, thank you,” she says, and addresses the children. “Tell him thank you, and you can each pick _one_.” The kids are overjoyed, and they descend on him as soon as Marc kneels down to let them pick.

It doesn’t take them long to carry off all but one of the stuffed animals, and Marc leaves with another sincere thank you from both the woman and the man with her. The only plush he’s been left with is a floppy frog with giant colorful spots. He looks for Claude, and spots him very carefully handing the giant bear to a girl who’s definitely not even as tall as the bear. Marc’s heart does some sort of acrobatics in his chest, but he just waits for Claude to come back. He seems to have kept one last prize, as well, a small stuffed star with a goofy face.

Clearing his throat, Marc says, “So, how do you feel about spinning in circles really fast?”

\-----

“I need to lie down,” Claude whines miserably. Marc helps him over to a bench, which is definitely covered in some mystery substances, but he doesn’t mention it as Claude gingerly lies down on it, scrunching his eyes closed tightly.

“That was a kids’ ride, Claude,” Marc informs him gleefully. “You can’t even handle a ride for children.”

“Fuck you,” Claude groans.

Marc laughs even harder, but pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t move too fast, you might throw up.”

Claude shudders. “Don’t joke about that.”

Marc returns a minute later and taps the water bottle he bought against Claude’s shoulder. Claude opens his eyes slightly, and takes the water bottle. He just holds it against his forehead at first, breathing in and out deliberately. Finally, he sits up slowly, cracking the bottle open, and drinking it slowly. Marc joins him on the probably gross bench, and they sit in silence for a little while, the sounds of the carnival around them filling the air. It had been hot earlier, almost sticky with humidity, but it’s getting late, and the air has cooled down as the darkness has begun creeping into the sky.

Finishing the bottle of water in one long gulp, Claude sighs. “We should probably go soon, right? Not much else to do.” He doesn’t sound happy about it.

“How about one more ride?” Marc asks, and when Claude makes an aggrieved face, he shakes his head. “No, not a fast one,” and he points up at the ferris wheel at the other end of the carnival. It’s late enough that they’ve just turned the lights on, and the bright colors blink slowly up its spokes.

Claude’s still grimacing a little, but he nods. “Sure, as long as you promise not to rock the seat.” Marc gives his best ‘who, me?’ face and Claude smacks him in the shoulder.

They meander down the length of the carnival, which is far less crowded than earlier, although still plenty full of people enjoying their evening. Claude is walking close, and every few steps, their hands brush together.

There’s a very short line for the ferris wheel, and they’re seated on it within a few minutes. Marc doesn’t say anything, just lets his head hang back as he looks up at the whole structure above and around them. It strikes him that this isn’t something he’s ever done before, and there’s something unexpectedly satisfying about living such a cliche romantic moment. They stop about half way up one side as more people are loaded into seats below them. When Marc looks back down, he sees Claude studying him. Neither of them say anything. Something about the quickly approaching dark and the way the heat has faded to a pleasant warmth gives the whole experience a slightly over-real feeling, like Marc is seeing the world around him in high definition for the first time.

The ferris wheel starts in earnest, and the wind gently rushing by his face makes Marc smile involuntarily. Claude grabs the lap bar tightly the first time they reach the top of the wheel, but he relaxes immediately and leans back into the seat, slouching slightly toward Marc so that their shoulders are touching. It’s sweeter than they tend to be with each other, but Marc gets it. That’s just how the evening feels now. The next time the wheel goes around, just before they reach the top, he puts his hand on Claude’s cheek, pulling him in for a gentle kiss just as they pass the top of their ride. Claude goes with the movement of his hand immediately, kissing back with no hesitation. It’s maybe not the smartest thing they’ve done together, in public as they are, but neither of them makes any move to stop as the wheel makes its way past the operator and the small line of people waiting to ride.

As the wheel slows to a halt, Marc pulls away reluctantly. Claude laughs. “God, we’re really that couple, aren’t we? Kissing at the top of a ferris wheel. I hated those people in high school.”

Marc says, “They probably had all of their teeth,” trying to hold back his grin.

“Dick,” Claude says affectionately, smiling wide enough to show off the gap in his teeth.

They’re let out of the seat not long after that, and without saying anything start heading out of the carnival in the general direction of where they’d parked. As they walk, Claude hands Marc the stuffed star plush. “Here you go,” is all he says.

Marc realizes he’d left the frog somewhere else. “Gee, thanks,” he deadpans.

Very satisfied, Claude says, “Well, since I ended up with one, and you ended up with zero, I won, so I think I can be generous in victory.”

“Fuck you, that’s not any of this works,” Marc argues as Claude smirks. They continue walking toward the car, the argument not really sustained by anything other than the inertia of having started it again.

**Author's Note:**

> [the camera pulls back as they walk down a sidewalk. the lighting gets darker, almost imperceptibly, and the sound of their bickering fades out as the camera continues moving away and fading to black. END SCENE.]
> 
>  
> 
> this is definitely based on the 4th of july street fair in my hometown, but also every other small town carnival ever probably.
> 
> are they hockey players in this? just two random dudes? why are they at a carnival? where is it? when is it? i have no answers.
> 
> come talk to me about claude/flower or anything else on twitter at steelinstories or on tumblr at topcopbobrovsky


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